


The Details of Revenge

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Details Multiverse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Torture, Death, Eyeball Trauma, Forced Cannibalism, Forced Emasculation, Gen, Genital Disfigurement, Gratuitous Suffering, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Over the top torture. Too detailed. No happy ending. Anakin put through the wringer in the worst possible way. Lots and lots of needless gore. More than you've probably seen in my stories before, unless you know me in real life and have read other stories in the vault. The story is not a question of will Obi-Wan die, but of how he gets there.CHAPTER 2: Non-Gory Explanation of How Everyone Is Coping Afterwards, Including Dooku Cameo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Darlings, I'm not sure how much more warning I can give you. What follows is not a taste of darkness, or even a polite dinner party that welcomes those interested in understanding their darker sisters. It's a full-on festival.
> 
> Take care of yourselves; your emotional health is what's most important here. If this story isn't going to make your day better, you may want to find something else to read today. However, if this is the sort of thing that's the icing on your cake: Welcome. Light the candles, start the music, and dance.

Obi-Wan choked, Grievous ’ fingers closed over his throat.

A hiss in his ears.

Burning in his gut.

Hacking laughter.

Glowing hate-filled eyes.

_I_ _ ’m _ _dying._

Like Qui-Gon.

Only Obi-Wan's former padawan wasn't here to hold him, to ease his passing.

_I_ _ ’ _ _m alone._

Grievous let go of him, and the instant Obi-Wan hit the floor the shock gave way to pain. He lay flat on his back, stunned by its intensity.

“At last. You don ’ t know how I enjoyed that.”

“I think... I have  _some_ idea,” Obi-Wan muttered, trying to analyze his wound. It was so hard to  _think—_

“Don't worry. You're not going to die  _soon_ . After all, it would be a shame if your padawan couldn ’ t say goodbye.”

 

* * *

 

“I don ’ t think anything is out here, Master,” Ahsoka announced.

Anakin scowled. “He  _has_ to be here. Everything pointed this way.”

“I think we ’ ve been had.”

Anakin froze. “If it was a setup, but no one is here to ambush  _us_ ...”

Ahsoka ’ s eyes widened in panic. “Master Kenobi!”

Anakin turned the shuttle, nearly throwing Ahsoka out of her seat, leaping into hyperspace as soon as he could tap the coordinates in.

_He_ _ ’ _ _s alone. He_ _ ’ _ _s exhausted._

_Already wounded._

_Asleep._

_Kark. Kark. Kark._

_“You stay here and rest, Master, while Ahsoka and I do the dangerous fun stuff.”_

His words burned him now.

He and Ahsoka had never been in danger.

The shuttle ’ s comm blinked.

Incoming holo.

From Obi-Wan.

Ahsoka keyed it, and they found themselves looking at Grievous.

“Anakin Skywalker. I have someone who would like to say hello.”

Grievous dropped the comlink to the floor to widen its pickup.

Obi-Wan lay on his back, a lightsaber wound through his stomach.

Ahsoka gasped.

Anakin grit his teeth and stared Grievous down. “Obi-Wan?”

“I can see your lips moving, Skywalker,” Grievous crowed, “but you ’ re muted. Your precious master can ’ t hear a thing you say.”

Obi-Wan ’ s head turned, and he looked straight into Anakin ’ s eyes. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

Anakin saw his pain. Could almost feel it himself.

Breathing ragged, a look in his eyes that Anakin recognized.

_He_ _ ’ _ _s thinking of Qui-Gon._

_Oh, hell—_

“The injury is fatal,” Grievous announced. “But I aimed it so it will take him hours to die. Plenty of time for some amusement.”

A shaft of green slashed through Obi-Wan ’ s right ankle, severing his foot.

He choked— eyes glazed—

Ahsoka jerked, panic surging through her Force signature.

The heavy foot came down, crushing Obi-Wan ’ s knee, then his other knee— again to destroy the femurs—

Obi-Wan screamed, throwing out his hand, attempting to fling Grievous away—

But the cyborg merely swayed, as if a strong breeze had struck him.

_He_ _ ’ _ _s weakening._

Grievous was far from finished.

The crunching continued as Grievous destroyed hands, arms—

And after he was done shattering Obi-Wan ’ s bones, he continued his slow dismemberment.

A hand.

The other hand.

The remaining foot.

A good portion of one shin.

He drew the lightsabers lightly across Obi-Wan's torso, burning him, but not deeply enough to kill.

Obi-Wan's cries had fallen silent, his body shuddering, convulsing, his mouth open in a voiceless scream—

His eyes sought out Ahsoka and Anakin.

He reached out towards them with a shattered arm and severed wrist.

Grievous planted a foot on his chest, throwing him back against the floor. Obi-Wan gasped in agony—

And then fingers were reaching for him—

Anakin found himself pushed back in his chair, desperation flooding his system, no,  _no—_

Obi-Wan struck at the General, but he was too broken, the pain too great, the Force only lightly, pathetically spasming in response to his horrified efforts—

He couldn ’t  _ breathe _ —

Neither of them could.

The fingers pursued him as he twisted his head, trying to escape—

They carved out his eyes.

And then they forced his jaw open, and dropped them in his mouth.

Ahsoka was half out of her chair, as if that would somehow help—

Grievous held Obi-Wan ’ s jaw closed.

Obi-Wan ’ s anguished struggle to push him away made the cyborg laugh. “How do they taste, Kenobi?”

Finally, Grievous let him roll to his side, and Obi-Wan spewed his eyes out, blood and saliva joining them.

And then vomit.

And more vomit.

And groans, as the heaving dragged at the wound, the burns, the bones—

And then it was blood alone that spilled from his mouth as his body convulsed once more.

Anakin knew his padawan to be at the end of her rope.

Knew  _his_ rope—

He ’ d left his far behind—

He stared into the empty, bleeding eye-sockets of his best friend, and begged the Force to end it quickly.

Yes.

He asked for Obi-Wan ’s death.

“Pain is not enough. I want to humiliate you. What would you be ashamed of your padawan seeing? What would destroy you for your padwan ’ s little padawan to witness happening to you?”

And for the first time since the terrible mutilations, Obi-Wan spoke.

“ _Send her out_ . Anakin, send Ahsoka out.  _Now_ . That ’ s an  _order_ , Anakin!”

 

* * *

 

“ _Out_ !” Anakin yelled at her.

She stared at him, shocked, began to protest—

But she was stumbling for the door all the same.

And even though the door closed behind her, she could hear the awful sounds. The screams. She stood there and didn ’ t know how to take it. Heard the utter silence of her master. How  _not_ silent he was in the Force.

And she wept.

 

* * *

 

“Let ’ s show everyone how emasculated the Jedi really are.”

Metal claws tore through fabric—

Obi-Wan struggled to crawl away—

His face blanched as fingers found him—

One hand braced his hip, and the other—

Anakin ’ s brain struggled to register—

Blood—  _everywhere_ —

Obi-Wan ’ s keening agony—

What was in Grievous ’ clutches— what he stuffed into Obi-Wan ’ s mouth, silencing his screams—

Obi-Wan, thrashing, begging for death,  _begging_ for it in the Force—

Tears streamed down Anakin ’ s face, and hatred filled every corner of his soul—

As he sat still and watched.

For long moments, Obi-Wan gagged as Grievous drove his torn length down his throat— smothering him with mangled flesh and blood—

And then his hand plunged into Obi-Wan ’ s chest, fingers closed around his heart—

And tore it from his body.

Anakin saw it beat once, twice—

Heard Obi-Wan hiss in what should have been a breath—

And the holo winked out.

Anakin screamed at the emptiness.

He wasn ’ t going to be allowed to be present for those last final moments— Obi-Wan would be  _alone—_

One, two—

The Force shuddered as the brightest light Anakin had ever encountered went out.

 

* * *

 

They saw Grievous ’ ship jump out of the system as they jumped in.

Ahsoka clung to her seat as Anakin brought the shuttle down hard and fast, nearly crushing the landing gear—

The warehouse.

They raced into the first giant room, hurried for the second—

At the door, Anakin forbade Ahsoka from entering.

“But, Master—”

He flatly demanded her obedience.

And she gave it.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan lay on his back, chest ripped open.

Parts scattered around him.

His heart had been thrown carelessly across the room.

Anakin stepped carefully to avoid treading on the bloody footprints Grievous had left on his way out.

Reaching him, Anakin collapsed to his knees beside the broken body.

Overwhelmed, he had no idea what he should do for his master.

He stripped off his own cloak, and—

He used the Force to free Obi-Wan ’ s mouth. To wrap it—  _them_ — in his cloak.

At least—

At least he was covered, now.

But  _more_ was needed.

“Ahsoka, get in here,” he rasped, barely able to hear his own voice.

Somehow, she heard him.

She froze in utter horror as she caught sight of her master ’ s master, her nostrils flaring at the stench—

Blood. Intestinal fluids. Urine. Feces.

What would have been come.

If it hadn't been torn from his body.

“I need your cloak,” Anakin somehow managed—

Ahsoka stripped out of it, racing to his side and handing it to him.

“I— I ’ ll get a hovercart—” Ahsoka fled the carnage.

Anakin placed the cloak over his master ’ s body.

And then Ahsoka was back.

But Anakin would  _not_ place Obi-Wan ’ s corpse on it.

Instead, he lifted his cloak ’ s bundle, and placed it on the hovercart, careful to retain the concealment of the folds of fabric.

And then he began the grisly task of gathering up...

The pieces.

Hands.

Feet.

Rings of arms and legs, cut like round steaks, with white bone in the center of each.

Ahsoka retched behind him.

Anakin was dimly surprised he  _didn_ _ ’t _ .

But he would never, never—

_Ever_ —

Eat a steak that hadn ’ t been deboned. 

He wasn ’ t entirely sure he ’ d be able to manage it even if it  _had_ .

He placed another two on the hovercart, gently, carefully—

And then he turned and saw the eyes.

He cringed, not wanting to touch them. Irrationally afraid of causing them damage,  _pain_ —

Coarse dirt clung to them where they ’ d slid on the floor.

He gathered them in his hands, vaguely aware of Ahsoka ’ s muffled whimper, and laid them tenderly atop his cloak. 

And then all that was left was the heart.

He crouched beside it, reached out—

Shuddered—

Choked—

Reached out  _again_ —

Ahsoka moved to come and take it for him, but he murmured, “ _No,_ ” a forceful gesture accompanying the torn word.

He wouldn ’ t let her touch him.

_His_ master.

So he lifted the heart in his hands, already cool to the touch, and placed it beside the eyes.

He  _did_ allow Ahsoka to guide the hovercart to the ship.

He tucked her cloak around Obi-Wan ’ s body and lifted it into his arms.

He was significantly lighter than last time Anakin had carried him—

The missing bone, blood, and flesh made an astounding difference.

The corpse felt drained.

Anakin held him close, hating the way the skeleton shifted and bent, and walked back to the ship.

Every step burned him.

And silent tears whispered down his cheeks, not once blurring his eyes.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The completely unexpected addition that took me very much by surprise when it announced itself.

 

“What happened out there?” Windu asked, fingers clenching into the arms of his chair. “I have not felt such  _ terrible  _ things in the Force,  _ ever _ .”

Anakin stepped forward, held out a holodisk. “It's all there.” Mace accepted it from his shaking fingers and Anakin turned to flee. “I cannot speak of it. The pain is too new.”

He paced the short hallway outside the chamber, tears streaming down his face as he waited.

A muffled scream from behind the sealed doors, then another—

_ Oh, Obi-Wan. _

It took less time than he remembered. The doors slid open again, inviting him back in.

He entered to discover not a single dry eye in the room.

The grieved eyes Windu raised to meet his stunned Anakin, and as he looked around the circle, he found a kinship there.

 

* * *

 

“ _ What  _ is this?”

Grievous looked up from where he and his medical droid had been watching and re-watching the footage of Kenobi's death. They'd been enjoying themselves too, mocking and laughing while Gor licked the dried blood from Grievous' claws.

Grievous raised rebellious eyes to find Dooku standing in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes on fire as he stared at the now-paused holo.

“A victory for the Separatist Alliance,” Grievous replied, knowing that was the  _ correct  _ thing to say.

Crossing something off his bucket-list might be more accurate, but Dooku wouldn't care.

It couldn't  _ get  _ better than this. There were only three others comparable— Yoda, Windu, Skywalker— and this proved he  _ could.  _ It was the first time he'd taken out someone other than a nameless face in an order so vast that even if he took out one of them a day, it would take him twenty-seven years to reach the goal.

But  _ Kenobi... _ In one day, he'd dealt a blow to the entire Order, one it would never recover from, one that would leave every Jedi quaking in their boots,  _ knowing  _ that if this could happen to one of their  _ best—  _

None of them were safe.

It had been a good day.

“Replay it,” Dooku murmured, “from the beginning.”

Grievous complied while Gor slunk away, growling unhappily to itself.

Somehow, it wasn't as much fun, this time. Mostly because the Sith was too dignified to snicker and cheer, and neither Grievous nor his medic felt much inclined to indulge while those cold, golden eyes watched.

At the end Dooku demanded, “Again.”

And then, afterwards, “ _ Again. _ ”

The medic droid edged its way silently from the room, and Grievous wished he could retreat as well. Dooku didn't seem to be enjoying himself, which left Grievous just a little unsure what the point of this exercise was.

He didn't figure it out until he was on his knees, his carapace being wrenched apart so Dooku could plunge his hand into his innards and crush the life from them as he poured lightning through Grievous' eyes until they melted in their sockets.

 

* * *

 

_ And for good measure, Dooku stormed through the facility, destroying Grievous' spare parts, the medical droid, the monster Grievous called a pet; he set fire to the place and dragged Grievous' corpse out. _

_He had uses for the body._

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka didn't know who it was who'd found the mangled corpse on their doorstep.

But there Grievous lay, twisted, broken, internal fluids dripping to stain the white stone.

She didn't know who had first drawn out the parchment that had been thrust through an empty eyesocket.

She just saw the moment it was handed to Anakin's trembling fingers.

Flowing, cursive script met Ahsoka's eyes.

_ The revenge none of you could take. _

_My grandson deserved to die in combat._

Ahsoka almost choked a laugh.  _ Even Dooku's grieving. _

 

* * *

 

There was a holo in the Gardens of Memory.

Lifesize, Obi-Wan, before the beard, before Qui-Gon's death, before the war, before hell, looking up from a small object he held, a shattering grin lighting his face as his gaze rose.

A single moment captured, repeating over and over, the fingers closing lovingly over the object only to reopen again a heartbeat later.

This was a smile Anakin had never seen in life.  _ I met him after the end had begun. _

It was a beautiful smile, and it made Anakin's heart clench, his throat close, his eyes burn.

The holo was beautiful, and Anakin wasn't surprised by how many people, Jedi and outside the Order alike, had come to leave flowers at its base.

Anakin looked to the holo across the path from Obi-Wan's, the direct line of eyesight having been arranged to match the one that had been placed there over a decade earlier.

Tall and azure, Qui-Gon smiled a gentle, loving smile down into the eyes of the Padawan who held his riverstone.

And Obi-Wan, joy and life in his eyes, grinned back.

 

* * *

 

The recording became a rallying point.

Anakin and the rest of Obi-Wan's family had been very unwilling to allow it to be seen, but Palpatine had all but demanded it.

The Council had argued that since there was little point in putting the murderer on trial  _ now,  _ it would cause  _ more  _ pain to those involved to drag it out into the open than to not—

But no.

And Anakin could not refuse a direct command from the Chancellor.

He hated the letters he and Ahsoka received from the populace, letters raging against the evil of the Separatists, bewailing the common loss, and trying to console him.

What was  _ wrong  _ with these people?

It was Ahsoka who pointed out, again and again, that they were trying to find healing themselves. The genuine pain that could be felt when the letters were touched proved that.

They too were trying to understand and endure the hell that had descended.

It was Padmé who decided that if the recording had to be made public, it was sure as hell going to be seen in the Separatist parliament, and with Ahsoka's aid, slipped it to her friend Mina Bonteri.

Except for the big businesses and paramilitary organizations that formed the backbone of the Separatist Alliance, the knowledge that such atrocities had been committed in their name came as a horrifying shock to many.

Padmé seemed to think there was hope for peace in their shock, and decided to try to push forward on this foot, to call to Senate and Parliament to reopen peace talks in Obi-Wan's name.

Anakin knew Obi-Wan would have been pleased. His eyes would have widened at the thought that he had caused something he would have felt to be so wonderful, so sacred—

But Anakin felt that the Separatists were lying. Always lying. There was no way they  _ couldn't  _ have known what Grievous was doing. They gave him money, weapons, sent him out to do as he willed—

And now they wanted to say it wasn't their fault.

He wasn't interested in the disgusting vigils they hosted for the fallen Jedi. The fact that across the galaxy, regardless of political affiliation, beings turned out as one to raise candles into the night brought him no healing.

But he saw it in Ahsoka's face, in Padmé's face, in the faces of so many who felt their hearts shattered when Obi-Wan had died— it  _ was  _ bringing healing.

_ Just not to me. _

Yoda looked like he'd aged another few hundred years in the span of a week.

“Loved much, Yoda has,” Anakin heard him mumbling to himself. “Lost many, have I. So tired, Qui-Gon. Home I would like to come. Yes, yes. Not yet, I know. Endure a little while longer I must.”

 

* * *

 

Anakin was surprised when the 212 th , now under his command, began to display wide bands of gray around the yellow markings on their armor. He didn't want to speak of it, but when his own 501 st began to paint thin yellow bands around their blue markings, he knew he was going to have to ask.

He caught Fives outlining the markings on his chest plate with a thin line of yellow, and decided it was his best opportunity to inquire.

Fives looked up at him with grieved, angry eyes. “Mandalorian colors, Sir. General Kenobi taught them to us.”

“The gray means what?”

“Mourning a lost love.”

Anakin found his throat closing again. He blinked to try to clear his vision and whispered, “and yellow?”

“Gold is for vengeance.”

“Grievous is already dead.”  
“Grievous alone would have been taken in years ago. The only reason he wasn't in prison already was because he had millions of droids to trip the Jedi up while he escaped again and again. He only had the droids because of money. It's the war that killed General Kenobi. It's the selfish, rich bastards who put blasters in the hands of maniacs and told them to murder as many as they could reach. Grievous was just a common criminal. It's the beings  _ not  _ on the battlefield who are responsible, and they need to  _ pay,  _ General.”

“I can't condone that,” Anakin whispered. And yes, while the words hurt to say, he believed in them.

He didn't want Obi-Wan to have made him a  _ worse  _ man.

_ You only ever made me better. _

Fives gave a nod. “That's alright, General. We'll do our job. But it's the war that killed General Kenobi, and it's the rich old bastards who didn't want to be told by the Senate that they couldn't kill people when they didn't do what their businesses wanted who started the war. It won't go against your code to dismantle the Trade Federation, Commerce Guilds, or Banking Clans if we have a chance, would it, Sir?”

“No, Fives. That it wouldn't.”

 

* * *

 

It was the thin-necked dueling saber hanging at Dooku's hip that made Cody lose his mind.

Instead of trying to kill the Sith, he simply tried to get the saber  _ back. _ He dropped his blaster and dove for it, wrapping hands tight around it and refusing to let go.

That saber had been his General's  _ life. _

Dooku hadn't sensed the malice-free intent, and suddenly having that much weight dragging down at his belt from behind put him off balance.

It was Anakin who disarmed Dooku, taking his hand along with his corrupted saber.

And from the glazed shock in the Sith's eye, Anakin didn't think he'd be fighting back any longer.

For a long moment Anakin stood there, the blade kissing Dooku's neck, countless clones looking on in breathless hope, desperate for him to  _ do  _ it—

Cody's fingers finally functioned and he disentangled the precious saber from the belt and brought it to Anakin.

Anakin held out his right hand for it, accepted it, without once taking his eyes off Dooku.

But when he ignited that second blade, it shone blue.

He could hear the quiet mourning of the crystal, longing for its person. Grieving for what had been done to him.

But Obi-Wan hadn't allowed his agony, his hopelessness to shatter the delicate creature's soul. Solid, whole, pure, protected—

_ No. I will not be the one to stain you. You have suffered enough. _

He retracted both blades into their hilts, clipping them to his belt, and holding out his hand for binders. He bound Dooku's remaining hand to his other elbow, dragged him to his feet, and perp-walked him down the long line of clones who stared, some with triumph, others with tears rolling openly down their cheeks, still others spitting on the Sith.

In the prisoner transport shuttle, Anakin sat alone with the prisoner, watching the silent, unmoved expression of the old man.

“You loved him,” Anakin murmured.

Dooku's pain-wracked eyes moved to peer into his.

“Testify to who is behind this war,” Anakin whispered, thinking of Fives. “Let whoever it is, whoever they are,  _ pay  _ for what they did to him. Because Grievous was only the weapon they used to kill him. You know it to be true.”

Dooku did not reply.

 

* * *

 

Anakin hadn't really anticipated they would get anything useful from Dooku.

He wasn't the only one shocked that day.

The Sith Master who recognized when he saw the end and tried to fight his way out of the Senate had clearly been shocked as well.

He was dead now, of course, a purple saber cutting short the massacre of Senate guards and clones.

Between the horror that their idealistic movement had been founded on blood money and nurtured by the same, and Dooku urging them to seek peace, the Separatist Parliament with its new figurehead of Mina Bonteri, and the Republic, led by Padmé and Bail, had ceased the violence.

They would work out nationality lines, war costs, and the rest later, but for the moment, the violence was over.

Jedi trickled back to the Temple, shell-shocked and sad, but with an undercurrent of relief and joy that electrified the hallowed halls.

Where to house the clones was the biggest challenge.

The near-empty Temple was stuffed to the brimful, but a building meant to comfortably house ten thousand was trying to hold three million. To make it work, they'd have to fit three hundred people where one used to reside.

Help came from a source Anakin had not anticipated.

Out of the blue, Mandalore offered its assistance.

That made little sense to Anakin, since Mandalore had been their age-old enemy, but their Duchess cut a deal with the Senate that in exchange for the Senate assisting their world to solve the economy disasters caused by the war through cut supply lines and smuggling, they would provide shelter for the clones until their personhood and citizenship could be ratified.

Anakin knew Padmé was working tirelessly to that end.

The Kenobi Initiative, Mandalore's offer was being called. And when Yoda spoke to the Duchess, Anakin was shocked to see tears fall from the old eyes, shocked to see the regal woman drop to her knees and draw him into an embrace.

Still more shocked to see old green arms hug her back.

Shaak Ti, Plo Koon and others had sped immediately to Kamino to prevent the scientists from eliminating or selling off the other clones, and the nurseries of the Temple housed tiny clones alongside tiny Jedi.

It was strange to look at Dooku and think,  _ Thank you. _

It was stranger still to say it aloud.

But what stole Anakin's breath completely was watching those golden eyes fill with tears, hear that voice murmur, a bit unsteady, “You were right. He needed to be avenged.”

Anakin watched him board the ship that would take him to Serenno, a man forever banished from both Republic and CIS space, a man who had his duchy, and nothing else.

A man who, despite everything he'd done, had saved several million lives.

Anakin had expected to hate him for “escaping” a more severe punishment. Had expected that he would forever resent the half-pardon extended to him because of the fact he single-handedly unraveled a plot that would have destroyed both Republic and CIS.

Instead, Anakin watched him go and experienced no real distress about it.

Especially after he overheard Yoda's quiet sobs when the two reunited without either killing the other.

_ He loves him,  _ Anakin realized.  _ After all he did. He still loves him. _

He was still thinking about that, and pretending not to notice how deeply affected the two taking leave of one another were, when Mandalore's ruler approached him, somehow dignified through the clear traces of her tears.

“Master Skywalker,” she greeted, her voice quiet. “I am glad to meet you.”

“Who are you?” he asked, searching her face.

A small smile touched her lips and eyes. “Your master loved you very much.”

Anakin had to blink against tears of his own as he gave as steady a nod as he could manage. He didn't dare speak.

“You made his life better.”

He scoffed. “I couldn't save him.”

“That matters less than the joy you gave him while he was here.”

Part of Anakin wanted to resent her. To declare her another meddling stranger whose condolences he really didn't want.

But there was something about this woman that felt... felt...

_ Almost as if she's been here longer than me. _

“He was proud of you and your Padawan, and felt very grateful for having been able to witness you teaching her. His eyes sparkled every time he spoke of the two of you together.”

A tear spilled down Anakin's cheek.

“May the Force watch over you, son of Kenobi.”  
He watched her walk away as a flood rushed to join the solitary tear he'd already shed.

A compassionate, understanding hand on his knee had him looking down through the curtain of brine.

“Master...”

Large eyes stared up into his, both sad and quiet at once. “Know, I do,” he murmured to comfort. “Know, I do.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In the Crystal Crisis story arc (unfinished Clone Wars story reels) there is a moment where Grievous has Obi-Wan by the throat. All it would have taken to kill him was a brain. Apparently, Grievous doesn't have one, because he took him captive. And guess who came and rescued him while they were setting up for a “longer” death. A smarter Grievous could have had his cake and eaten it too.
> 
> Also: this story was inspired by watching far too much True Blood. There's a scene where Eric uses his hand & vampiric speed/strength to tear off a human man's... important bits. It is imagery that stuck around in my brain, stewing, and finally came back out. People should never have handed me the darker, horror-ish tv shows. Yep. That was a mistake.


End file.
